


Respite

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Fluff, Grief, M/M, Mentions of Death, Severina's May 2019 Requests, bittersweet fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: "A short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant."





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xelie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Xelie).



> This was written for Xelie as a request for the month of May 2019.

As obnoxious as Mitsunari sometimes found Maeda Keiji, with his persistent optimism and his insistence on remaining blissfully oblivious to the suffering around him, he had to give him credit – he wouldn’t have come anywhere else. Gyobu, as devoted as he was, would try and quiet his pain, and Hideyaki’s strange monk companion was absolutely out of the question. Neither of those two could have given him what he needed at this exact moment, however. 

He did not want the sting of Lord Hideyoshi’s betrayal to be quieted. It fueled him, it was all he had left. Keiji did not try and diminish that. 

Rather, he offered a sanctuary from it, however temporary, however unintentional. He’d invited him in, made room for him at the low little table, he’d not tried to make small talk. Instead he’d poured him a cup of tea that they both knew would sit there untouched for the duration of Mitsunari’s visit. Instead, they sat in still, unquestioning silence. There was nothing that needed to be said.

I still remember.

I know.

You have been through so much.

It is Lord Hideyoshi who has suffered the burn of betrayal more so than I.

And without hesitation, Keiji leaned forwards and enveloped him in a tight, suffocating embrace. He fought at first – he struggled against those arms and Keiji loosened his grip slightly, afraid of accidentally crushing his guest’s lungs in the process of trying to provide sanctuary, but his strength, his will to resist fizzled out in seconds. In its place, there was only ever a gaping, hollow sadness. 

Defeated, and yet relieved at the same time, Mitsunari let his head fall forwards against Keiji’s shoulder, closing his eyes even though some part of him was itching to run, to hide and to never look back. This was weakness this was failure this was everything that he had sworn he would not become and yet here he was. Keiji, thankfully, did not say a single word, he simply continued to hold him close, steady and unwavering. Curse him for being so damn good, Mitsunari thought, at knowing what he needed.

Eventually Keiji let him go, and Mitsunari felt the temperature of the air suddenly plummet as if he’d taken all of the heat in the room right along with him. He’d busied himself with refilling the teacups – his own, to be more accurate, as Mitsunari’s was long since cold. He didn’t appear to be overly pleasant, nor the opposite, he was cordial, and nothing more. Mitsunari stared uselessly down at his hands. He’d not felt so weak, so helpless and infuriatingly powerless, since he’d first discovered the scene of Ieyasu’s betrayal.

Sometimes he yearned for the life that Maeda Keiji seemed to have. Carefree. Joyful, even, at times.

Keiji shifted a little, reaching to his right to retrieve one thing or another and his hair brushed across Mitsunari’s face. It was soft. Surprisingly soft and long, and Mitsunari couldn’t help but comb his fingers through it, trying his best not to tug too harshly. It was like petting a particularly friendly, large housecat, and Mitsunari nearly laughed at the irony of it all. In the midst of war on all fronts, here he was, braiding the very ends of another warlord’s hair.

However, he did not stop, nor did Keiji tell him to.

“It feels nice when you do that.”

Mitsunari froze. Oh. So he _did_ feel it. His fingers felt like stone and he looked straight down. “You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to, you know.”

So Mitsunari continued.

“It’s good to find calm every once in a while. Even in the small things.”

Oh how he wished he could believe that. It was one of the only times that he’d felt true, honest envy for another. How do you do it how do you keep it out of your mind how do you avoid those sleepless nights tossing and turning and wondering what you should have could have done differently. Or maybe he did and had mastered the art of hiding it. Mitsunari continued making simple little twists in his hair, gathering more and more of it, twisting it into one large braid that ran all the way down the length of his back. He held still throughout all of it, occasionally reaching again for the tea ladle, but nothing other than that. It was tranquil – it was the most at-peace that Mitsunari had felt for months. 

It felt like years sometimes.

“I apologize,” Mitsunari suddenly stammered out, “I apologize, Lord Keiji, for my indignity.” He was to defend Lord Hideyoshi’s name, to defend his honor, not to besmirch it! Keiji caught his wrists as he went to pull them away, twisting himself fully around to face him. There was no contempt in his expression, much to Mitsunari’s relief and surprise – an open book. However had he _managed_ to survive thus far?

“Don’t apologize when there’s nothing to apologize for, Lord Mitsunari,” Keiji said, “and do feel free to find your way to Kaga, have you ever need to come.” Those words spoke more than a thousand declarations of loyalty ever could. And Mitsunari would keep Keiji’s offer in mind.


End file.
